


Baby It's Cold Outside

by noxlee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Cold Weather, Destiel - Freeform, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Holidays, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, POV Impala (Supernatural), POV Outsider, Shipper!Impala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 12:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlee/pseuds/noxlee
Summary: Baby is tired, cold, and dirty. All she wants is to be home in the bunker for the holidays where she can stay warm and clean. But her OTP are being idiots.In which Baby ships Destiel. Fed up with their UST, she intervenes to encourage a Christmas miracle.





	Baby It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [robotsnchicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsnchicks/pseuds/robotsnchicks/works) and [pherryt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/works) for beta reading so quickly!
> 
> There is brief mention of season 12/13 temporary MCD and corresponding grief. But mostly, this is just wintery fluff.

 

 

 

It's cold and wet and everything around them is swirls of fog and mist, making it hard for her headlights to cut through anything. Baby growls her frustration, her wheels squealing on the sleet beneath them.

She is upset, to say the least. Only a week ago, she had been warm and cozy, freshly waxed and tucked away in the bunker garage where she had hoped to spend the holidays in luxurious comfort. Instead, she is miles from home, and growing crankier by the hour.

She's tired and cold and dirty. And Dean is being an idiot.

Sam, ever the sensible one, did not come on this hunt. But the other one is with Dean. The strange one, who smells of ozone and otherness. Castiel, he is called. Or Cas, as Dean and Sam like to call him. He was unsettling at first, all those years ago. He would materialize into her seat unexpectedly, startling both Dean and herself, and filling her interior with a crackling, simmering energy that she had been barely able to contain. He has always been larger somehow than his shape would suggest, and that made her wary at first.

Now, he’s more likely to use her door, and she’s grown fond of him in spite of his oddness. Though there is immeasurable, awful power contained within him, he is gentle. His touch is always soft and careful, both with herself and with her boys. He never bangs her doors or kicks her seats. He treats her with a quiet, dignified respect that she has grown to return in kind.

But right now, he is being an idiot too.

The hunt is done and they are heading home, just in time for Christmas. But the two of them have been bickering for hours. They do this _all_ the time, their fingers dancing towards one another across her seat but never quite touching. Talking, without saying what they mean. Quibbling over insignificant things, because anger is easiest to express. They fear the other feelings, the ones that fester deep within them. They are emotionally constipated idiots, both of them, and it drives her mad.

“I already said I was sorry about the coffee this morning.”

Dean huffs dramatically. “Dude, you forgot the coffee grounds!”

“And I said I was sorry.” Castiel scowls. “I made a new pot, didn’t I?”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I had to wake up to piss coloured hot water.”

“And do you know what I had to wake up to?” Castiel shoots back. “Your insufferable snoring.”

“I do _not_ snore.”

“You do too. Loudly.”

“Well it’s not like you need sleep anyway, right?”

“Wouldn’t matter if I did. I couldn’t get any.”

They descend once again into brooding, sulking silence. Ordinarily, Baby would be grateful for the quiet, but the tension is sharp and uncomfortable. She’s had just about enough of their bullshit, and her resolve finally cracks. With an almighty groan, she comes to a stop. Dean sputters and swears as she allows him to steer her slowly to the side of the road. Then she shuts everything down.

Dean turns the key over, but she stands her ground and refuses to start. “What the hell?” He mutters.

“What did you do?” asks Castiel.

“I didn’t do anything, she just stopped!” He shoots Castiel an angry look and runs a soothing hand over her dash. “What’s wrong Baby, hmm?”

Normally she’d appreciate the affection, but right now she’s just annoyed. Dean gets out, pulls his jacket tight against him to shield from the wind and sleet, and does a quick check under her hood. He pokes and prods, but finds nothing. A few moments later he slides back inside, shivering, and dripping rain all over her upholstery.

Castiel arches an eyebrow in question and Dean just scowls back at him. “It’s too dark. I won’t be able to get a good look at her until the storm lets up to see what’s wrong.”

“So we just wait here then?” Castiel asks.

Dean sighs. “I think we passed a Denny’s a few miles back. If we wanted to brave the rain, we could hike back there, see if anyone—”

“Dean, no!” Castiel’s face twists in horror. “Don’t you remember the last time we went to a Denny’s at midnight?”

“Fair point,” Dean says. He shivers again.

Castiel looks him up and down. “You’re cold.”

“No shit.”

“Here, let me.” Castiel moves closer and reaches his hand out, but Dean smacks it away.

“Fuck off. You need to recharge before you go using your mojo again.” Dean gestures angrily to a bandaged wound on Castiel’s shoulder.

“I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean snorts derisively, but the effect is ruined somewhat by his teeth, which have begun to chatter.

“At least take your clothes off. They’re soaked.”

“You wish,” Dean mutters. But he does shrug out of his jacket.

Castiel extricates himself from his trenchcoat as well, and moves to wrap it around Dean. One palm slides against Dean’s lower back, the other against his bare arm.

“Cas, I don’t need you to— shit, your hands are warm! That’s— wow, yeah. That’s nice.” Dean shuffles across the bench seat closer to Castiel, leaning into his warmth.

“You swear you’re not using your grace for this?” Dean asks.

“I promise,” says Castiel. "I'm running warmer than normal because my grace is, well, working to heal me." Castiel frowns down at his shoulder.

Dean nods to himself and they descend into silence again. It's a softer sort of silence than before though. It's no longer anger that's trying to make itself heard over the stillness between them.

If Baby could smile, she would. Things are developing nicely. She nudges two small liquor bottles to the front of the footwell. Relics from the last time they stayed at a fancy motel that she has been hiding from Dean and saving for a special occasion.

Dean’s foot makes contact with one of them and he bends over to investigate. “Oh, hello there. Thought I’d lost you.” He sits back up triumphantly and offers one to Castiel. They drink, huddled together.

Helpfully, Baby turns on the radio to set the mood.

“That’s weird,” Dean says. “How can that be playing if the car’s off?”

Castiel shrugs. “It’s nice. Festive,” he says.

And it is. The car fills with the sounds of Christmas songs.

_Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy cozy are we  
We’re snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be_

Baby can see the start of a faint blush creeping up the back of Dean’s neck. He’s stopped shivering by now, but hasn’t bothered to move from Castiel’s side.

She has known Dean a long time. Since before he drove her, back when he was small and rode around in the backseat, buckled in tight. Over the years, they have shared moments of bloodshed, grime, and countless horrors. But the things she cherishes most are the moments of love. The army man in the ashtray. The nights spent with her boys staring up at a starry sky.

She cherishes her time with Dean especially. When he cleans her, his touch is loving and gentle as he rubs out all her aches and bruises, washes away the dirt and grime. Sometimes when he’s alone he will talk to her. He confides his darkest secrets, his insecurities, and his deepest desires. She has seen him in all of his blustering bravado, and in all of his broken imperfections. She has seen all the lovers come through his life and make their mark on his heart in her backseat. She has seen him grow from a fumbling teenage boy to a weary old man. She knows him, probably better than he knows himself. She knows who he loves, what he fears.

And she will be damned if she lets him get in the way of himself. Time to take things up a notch with her next choice of song:

_Got no sleigh with reindeer, no sack on my back  
You’re gonna see me comin’ in a big black Cadillac_

“Elvis?” Castiel asks.

“Yeah, you dig it?”

Castiel hums noncommittally. His left arm has wrapped around Dean’s side and his thumb strokes ever so lightly against Dean’s arm.

 _Hang up your pretty stockings_  
_Turn off the light_  
_Santa Claus is comin’ down your chimney tonight_

Dean shoots upright and jabs furiously at the radio. The blush has spread to his ears. “Why does every fucking Christmas song sound so dirty,” he mutters under his breath.

His movement jars Castiel’s injured shoulder, and Dean stops when he hears the short gasp of pain behind him. He settles back in carefully next to Castiel’s side and scowls at the bandage. “You don’t seem like you’re fine.”

“I am. It’s nothing,” Castiel says.

“Right, yeah. You only got sliced open by a goddamn angel blade. God knows how they got their hands on that, but seriously, Cas? What the hell were you thinking?”

Castiel shrugs, but doesn’t say anything.

Dean’s anger flares back up. “You could have died, Cas. Hell, you almost did.” He jabs an accusatory finger at him. “Maybe don’t keep throwing yourself in front of things that can kill you, hmm?”

Castiel’s temper flares as well. “They would have killed _you_ if I hadn’t done something!” But as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he visibly deflates and stares down at his lap. When he speaks again, his voice is barely louder than a whisper. “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment again, Dean. I guess I don’t always make the best hunting partner.”

The hardness etched across Dean’s face dissolves. “Jesus, Cas. That’s not—hey, look at me.” He lifts Castiel’s face and lets his knuckles linger a half-second longer than is strictly necessary before dropping his hand. “You’re a great partner. I love… having you around.”

If Baby could roll her eyes, she would.

Dean clears his throat. “I uh, I was in kind of a bad way when you di— when you were gone. I can’t go through that again, Cas. I won’t survive it. Please don’t make me.”

Castiel offers a small, sad smile. “You think it’s any easier for me when I lose you?”

They continue staring at one another, and Baby waits with bated breath.

Finally – _finally_ – Dean leans in and presses his lips to the corner of Castiel’s mouth, his eyes fluttering shut. It’s soft and tender, and ever so brief. Dean pulls back a second later and they both stare at one another in mingled shock.

Next to having her boys alive and well, it’s the best Christmas present Baby could have ever hoped to receive.

Dean breaks the silence first. “Shit, I’m sorry. I—”

But he is interrupted by Castiel surging forward. He kisses Dean with all the ferocity and passion of a decade’s worth of unresolved longing. Dean’s hands slip on the leather seats as they grapple for purchase, until he finds it in the folds of Castiel’s shirt. He clings, desperate and frantic. A soft, breathy moan escapes him into Castiel’s answering mouth.

Baby has seen a lot of bloodshed. She has been witness to countless horrors. To anger, violence, chaos, revenge. To all of the evils of the world. But more than all of these things, she has been witness to love. To the legos stuck in her vents, chubby little legs kicking, and high pitched giggles. To cherished initials in her very steel; permanence carved solemnly by small hands. To two orphaned boys against the world, finding a home within her doors.

And to these two idiots, she is witness. She has watched them, felt their longing for years. Even Baby can see that this is something different; something more profound unfolding against her front seat. And so she envelops them in all the love she can offer them in return. She locks her doors, and keeps them tucked safely out of harm's way.

Outside, the sun has come up and the rain has turned into large, wet snowflakes. It’s beautiful, but only Baby sees its splendour. Neither Dean nor Castiel pay the world outside any mind.

She purrs contentedly, her engine coming back to life.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is very much appreciated!
> 
> This was my first ever entry for [SPN Coldest Hits](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SPNColdestHits/works). Be sure to check out the rest of the entries this month.
> 
> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](https://nox-lee.tumblr.com/post/181491374953/baby-its-cold-outside-on-ao3-baby-is-tired) and [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/366945).


End file.
